


his most devoted believer (800 years and more, always by his side)

by meowjunhwi



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demon Lord Minghao, Happy Ending, JUNHAO TGCF AU, Light Angst, M/M, Martial God Junhui, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, happy birthday minghao, they are in love yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowjunhwi/pseuds/meowjunhwi
Summary: It took them 800 years to find each other. Now, it only takes one step for them to fall into each other’s arms, this time for eternity.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	his most devoted believer (800 years and more, always by his side)

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY XU MINGHAO!!!!! <3 
> 
> Here is my fic for Hao's birthday. I've always wanted to write them in the MXTX universe and this is the Hualian installment. Hopefully I could continue writing them in Beefleaf, WangXian, and SVSS ( i forgot the ship name here LOL ). 
> 
> I used some of the notable and iconic lines from the TGCF novel itself bc I NEED TO, and it helps with the /feels/. Also, if you haven;t read TGCF yet, do it. I beg you. It's so good I promise!!! I wanted to write JunHao in a lot of parts from the story, but the ending one is my favorite, so I used this. And it is the part that warms my heart the most. 
> 
> I hope you could enjoy this little fic. <3

Chest heaving with both exertion and exhaustion, Junhui plops down on the ground, first to sit and uncaringly proceeding to lie down largely tempted to just fall asleep right there and then.

It had been a long and arduous journey and he is tired— both physically and mentally. He had exerted his body and his strength by using the amount of spiritual energy that he is not used to anymore ever since he was stripped out of it after falling from the heavens three times. Add the fact that he had to face a figure from his past who had brought him nightmares, making sleep unbearable for him especially during the days when the memory of his fallen kingdom is still a fresh and gaping wound, the image too detailed in his mind thus making him relive the horrors of what was once a bustling city filled with the Heaven’s blessings and grace.

It had been 800 years since then and finally, finally Junhui had achieved the peace he had long been searching for.

The White-Masked Calamity is gone, for real this time, and he could no longer disturb Junhui’s life.

The nightmares would still come, they surely would every now and then, but he thinks he can handle it much better than before, knowing that the one who torments him and brings him anguish and sorrow is permanently gone from this world.

Plus Minghao is there to help, holding Junhui’s hand and rubbing his back soothingly when he shots awake, terrified from a horrible nightmare that seemed so real.

Minghao had never left his side ever since they met— in that small ox-cart that Junhui hitched a ride on during the night of the Ghost Festival, Minghao leaning against the pile of hay, whistling a tune while Junhui was making a tally of the trash that he had collected for the day.

 _“In my family, I am the eighth son and they call me Xiao Ba,”_ he introduced himself back then. Junhui smiles as he recalls the memory in his hazy mind.

Speaking of Minghao, he turns to his side to look at the demon lord.

Minghao was panting heavily, kneeling on the ground and sitting on his heels. His head was bowed and the strands of black hair curtained his face from Junhui’s view.

“Xiao Ba?” Junhui calls softly, hefting himself up so he could crawl towards the younger, not minding the mud staining his white robes. They were already dirty anyway.

“Xiao Ba,” he calls again when Minghao doesn’t respond the first time. The demon raises his head and tries to smile reassuringly at Junhui to show him that he is okay, even though looks deathly pale and the light of life in his eyes is slowly dying into a dull flame.

Junhui reaches out to touch him but Minghao feels too light in his grip.

“Xiao Ba, are you okay?”

“Gege,” Minghao says affectionately, raising a hand to Junhui’s cheek, wiping the tear that he didn’t know had already started streaming down his face. Minghao isn’t wounded by any means, Junhui notes as he looks him over. No sign of dried blood on his skin or his clothes. No open wound in the visible areas.

Yet Minghao looks ghostly pale, his skin looking translucent that Junhui could almost see through him if he focuses enough. He shakes his head, tells himself that this is just his exhaustion catching up to him.

“Xiao Ba, are you hurt anywhere? Do you need me to lend you some spiritual energy?” He asks, hands hovering over the other. Minghao chuckles and pokes him on the cheek, “Silly, Gege. You need it more than I do.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine,” he tells him reassuringly but Junhui isn’t inclined to believe him, not when Minghao looks like he will disappear anytime soon.

 _No, you’re not,_ Junhui wants to protest but his voice is stuck in his throat as he tries his best to hold himself together.

“Gege, I will be gone for a while,” Minghao informs him. His hand goes to the necklace worn around Junhui’s neck, tracing the detailed engraving of a dragon on the gold pendant.

“H-how long?” Junhui chokes out, his voice small and scared.

“I don’t know. Time works mysteriously where I will be going,” Minghao shrugs, as if it isn’t exactly a big deal when in fact it is. Junhui catches on to what his words meant and he felt his breath catch in his throat, the tears burning hotter in the back of his eyes.

It scares Junhui. The thought of losing Minghao permanently scares him more than he thought it would, especially now that he had accepted the feelings he had for the younger and had openly admitted it to him.

“Junhui,” Minghao calls him by name this time and cups his cheek gently in his hands, almost like Junhui is a flower that would crush when he applies the little bit of strength in his hold; like he is the most precious porcelain he had ever laid his eyes on and would fight the world when a scratch grazes his skin.

(Knowing just how much pain Junhui had gone through in those 800 years, it couldn’t entirely be ruled out that Minghao would be out for the head of someone who had hurt Junhui in every way.)

“Junhui, it brings me great joy to have been able to protect you like this,” he tells him sincerely, “I never dreamt that for once in my life, I would get to hold you like this, or kiss you like this,” Minghao leans in to give him a peck on the lips— a light touch yet it lingers— and he chuckles when they pull apart and Junhui unconsciously chases the feeling again.

“Xiao Ba, please,” Junhui grips Minghao’s maple red robes in his hands, tightly as if it would stop him from disappearing. The hems of his robes are transparent now that if Junhui trains his eyes on them, he’d find that it is almost gone, like being swept away by the wind.

He doesn't let his eyes stray away from Minghao’s face— expression gentle and loving and filled with the devotion he had been outwardly expressing towards Junhui with every chance he gets.

“Junhui, to die in battle for you would be my greatest honor.”

Minghao says it like it’s the absolute truth of the world, says it with overflowing passion and unwavering loyalty, the way a soldier would proclaim to his king before going to a war to defend the throne—on his knees, a hand on his chest and head bowed reverently.

“Okay, we are not going to talk about dying here,” Junhui decides, “How much spiritual energy do you need? I have borrowed so much for you I need to return it.”

But Minghao ignores what Junhui said, instead, “Gege, there is no banquet in this world that doesn’t come to an end.”

Junhui whimpers, a new wave of tears threatening to spill. Minghao was quick to placate him, “But I will never leave you.”

“I’ll come back for you, Junhui. I promise,” Minghao declares firmly. Junhui was about to reach out, hold onto Minghao’s shoulders and kiss him, but his hands merely went through him, his fingers brushing through Minghao’s now quickly disappearing form.

Time is running out.

“Xiao Ba!” Junhui’s voice was shaky as he tried to grasp into what’s remaining of Minghao’s form, but it was a desperate and fruitless gesture.

The last thing he saw was Minghao’s eyes, blazing with a love that spans centuries and maybe even lifetimes, and his mouth that forms words Junhui can no longer hear.

And then the wind blows.

In Minghao’s place is a swarm of silver wraith butterflies, fluttering about. One lands on Junhui’s cheek and stays there for a while, like it is a piece of Minghao that stubbornly clings to Junhui not wanting to let go, before it flies away and turns into dust, the powdery substance glinting in the sunlight filtering in through the gaping roof of what was once a cave.

Yanan and Kun were immediately by his side, one trying to get him to stand up and make sure he is alright, while the other is trying to find out what happened but Junhui doesn’t hear anything nor doesn’t process anything aside from the fact that Minghao is gone.

***

“Shouldn’t you two be helping with the repairs needed for your respective temples in the Capital?” Junhui asks as Kun takes over the cooking, Yanan pulling Junhui to sit down with him on the wooden dining table.

“Yukhei could manage,” Kun replies, making Junhui snort, “That kid has a lot of clumsy bones in his body.”

“He’ll live,” Kun adds a cup of water in the pot and stirs it with the ladle, bringing it up to his lips to taste and making an affirmative noise when it is to his liking.

“Besides,” he continues as he places the lid on the pot and waits for the soup to cook, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest, “Sicheng is there to oversee everything and guide him.”

Junhui just hums to acknowledge him before he turns his attention to Yanan, who is currently sifting through the cookbook he had procured from one of Junhui’s shelves.

“How about yours, Yanan?”

“Yuto had taken the initiative to see over the repairs for me,” Yanan responds without taking his eyes off the page, even though Junhui knows that he isn’t really reading it (Yanan can’t really cook for shit), instead using the book as an excuse so he wouldn’t have to look at Junhui and let the other figure out that he is a bit flustered at the mention of one of his followers whom he is fond of.

“I see,” Junhui states simply but the teasing lilt of his voice makes Yanan turn his attention away from the book to glare at him, his eyes holding no heat behind, “Shut up, Junhui.”

Junhui lets out a cackle while Kun snorts, “That boy is whipped. He literally looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky.”

Yanan whines at them like a child, and Junhui looks at him in amusement at his duality. Yanan, Martial God of the West turning into a flustered mess because of the admiration of one of his followers.

Junhui smiles at the thought, at the same time it reminds him of someone that he is so intimately familiar with, and it makes his heart hurt.

_“You are my one and only true god.”_

It’s been a year since Minghao was gone, and yet there are no traces of him anywhere that could be found. They even went as far as to seek out his friend, the demon lord of the black seas Jeonghan, yet he offers no information as to where Minghao could be.

Still, Junhui waits because Minghao promised he will come back and Junhui believes in the promises that Minghao makes.

He touches the pendant, lying against his chest, the very pendant that contains the ashes that symbolizes Minghao’s life and how he entrusted it in Junhui’s hand.

Minghao is still in this world, that Junhui is sure of.

“Wonwoo is almost finished with the computations and retrieval of the most important documents,” Kun pulls him out of his reverie as he places a bowl of steaming soup in front of him together with a plate of red chilli that he likes to sprinkle his food with, “Poor man haven’t gotten any blink of sleep.”

Yanan shrugs as he closes the book and puts it away so he could start eating, “It’s his punishment for going against the laws of Heaven. Still, Mingyu is helping him out. Maybe it is not that bad as compared to before.”

Yanan and Kun continue to feed him with stories of the Heavenly Realm and Junhui delights in the comfort brought on by the company of two friends who he had known for the past eight hundred years.

He knows both are busy with having a multitude of their own temples and shrines to attend to, yet they always find time in their schedules to visit Junhui in his small cottage that he made into his home, making sure that he is fine and bringing along with them stories and sometimes ingredients from the places that they have visited recently.

It gets a little lonely and quiet every now and then, but the two of them make things livelier with their visits. Junhui couldn’t thank them enough.

He mentally notes to pay his respects to their temples the next time he goes down the hill and visits the village.

***

It was getting late in the evening when Yanan and Kun decided to go back to their duties as Martial Gods.

With hesitation in their gestures, they bid Junhui goodbye, the latter reassuring his two friends that he will be fine and that he is looking forward to their next visit and the stories and delicacies that come with it.

Junhui waits until their figures melts into the dark shadows of the night before he retreats back into his cottage, the heavy silence now filling what was earlier a lively space.

It had been this way for a year, yet Junhui is still not used to it.

Funny, how the few months he had spent with Minghao grew so much on him that living without him feels empty and lonely— even emptier and lonelier than the years he spent walking around alone, collecting scrap and trying to regain himself.

He is thankful for Yanan and Kun, of course. They were his brothers, his family. But Minghao occupies a part of Junhui’s life and soul that Yanan and Kun don’t. That part was bound to feel empty in his absence.

He sighs then gets to work cleaning the kitchen and the utensils that they had used in cooking and eating. Kun volunteered to even wash those for him, but Junhui waved him away, saying that he and Yanan had already done plenty enough going down to the Mortal Realm just to visit him.

Junhui bunches the sleeves of his robe up until his elbows, tying it in a knot so it wouldn’t fall while he is scrubbing the pots and plates and ending up soiling the white cloth.

He hums a tune under his breath while working, something that he heard Minghao singing once while they were in his palace back in the Ghost City— Minghao sitting on the floor with a calligraphy brush in hand moving fluidly across the blank expanse of parchment while Junhui is contentedly watching him from where he is lying sideways on the divan.

It is one of Junhui’s favorite moments, the two of them locked away in the privacy of Minghao’s palace, content and at ease with each other’s presence and it feels almost as if the outside world exists in a different plane than theirs.

There is comfort with Minghao’s company, despite their obvious differences, but it is those differences that make their dynamics harmonious.

Junhui looks out the window, up at the night sky where the full moon shines bright and hangs high, and he lets out another wistful sigh.

The gaping hole in his chest expands and he almost clutches the area where his heart is, painful and filled with a longing he had never felt before.

***

Junhui hikes up the hill with a picket basket hanging on his arm, filled with fruits and vegetables and packs of rice he had bought from the village market.

It was a lovely day, the skies were clear and vibrant blue, yet the heat was not unforgiving as there were the frequent bouts of cool wind blowing, signaling the slow transition of the seasons from autumn to winter.

He was also able to do some work assisting the villagers in some issues that he could be of big help with like driving away malevolent spirits or repairing houses and such, then just before he went back, he made sure to pass by Kun’s and Yanan’s temples to pay his respects.

(Through the spiritual array, he heard them ask what was that for but he just chuckles, tells them he will see them when he visits the Heavenly Capital soon.)

By the time he was at the foot of the hill, the sun was already low on the horizon and the moon started to peek from behind the clouds.

He was exhausted from the long day filled with what felt like endless work, and the hike back up his cottage seems like a pain in the ass considering his aching limbs, yet Junhui manages. He is in high spirits after all, even with the tiring day. Maybe it was because he was able to do the chores that he kept in a list at the back of his mind. Maybe it was the thought of cooking a bowl of congee for himself when he gets back, sprinkling it with a not-so-normal amount of chilli powder the way he likes it. Maybe it is because the moon is pretty as it peeks through the leaves of the maple trees, the branches forming an arch on Junhui’s head as he passes through the pathway.

He steps out into the clearing, and he sees the small dot in the distance where his cottage stands.

As he continues his hike, he notices an orange dot float in the sky. Followed by another, and then another and another, until Junhui lost count as they filled his view.

He stops, eyes blinking quickly in astonishment. He rubbed his eyes with his fists, so as to assure himself that no, he isn’t dreaming and yes, there are almost a hundred lanterns making their way up to join the stars and the moon in illuminating the evening sky.

It was already the tail-end of autumn, the festival had long gone and Junhui had attended it in the village because Kun and Yanan pulled him out of the cottage. Junhui is sure that the next festival will be during the New Year because Ghost Festivals don’t require the floating lanterns as everyone is advised to be home by the time the clock strikes seven in the evening.

Junhui is also sure that there is only one other person capable of herding a hundred lanterns at once, the sight in front of him achingly familiar as it reminded him of the last banquet he shared with the other gods of the Heavenly Realm, a thousand lanterns floating in the sky all of them an offering to his name.

He takes off in a sprint.

He reaches his front lawn yet he doesn’t stop to enter and to put the basket down first. Instead he continues on to the back of the cottage where he traced the lanterns to be originating from.

His breath catches in his throat, he can feel the back of his eyes burn with unshed tears.

A sound escapes his mouth, a sob that he wasn’t able to hold back, and the figure turns around and smiles at him.

There, in his backyard, stands Minghao in all his glory, dressed in maple red robes decorated with silver accessories, his hair longer and some strands falling against his eyes, brushing against his cheeks. There is a lantern in his hands, and a few more by his feet, waiting to be released to join its companions floating above them.

Junhui drops the basket, some of its contents spilling on the ground, and he runs towards Minghao who releases the lantern from his hold in favor of catching Junhui in his arms.

He clutches onto him desperately, touching every part of him that he could reach, looking and feeling to make himself believe that this is real and Minghao is standing in front of him, alive and not just another figment of his dreams.

“Xiao Ba,” Junhui croaks out, tears now streaming down his face like waterfalls. Minghao chuckles, wipes them away with his thumbs and cradles his face in his cold hands yet nothing has ever felt warmer on Junhui’s skin.

“Junhui.”

It took them 800 years to find each other. Now, it only takes one step for them to fall into each other’s arms, this time for eternity.

“I’m home,” Minghao presses his forehead against Junhui’s then kisses him on the lips.

Junhui closes his eyes, basking in the feeling of Minghao and the gentle warmth of his love and devotion that envelope him in its arms.

“Welcome home, Xiao Ba.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! <3


End file.
